Instead of doing writing exercises today I opted to edit, polish and submit “My Neighbor’s Apartment” to a double-blind peer review journal I’ve had some success with in the past. I’ve read it, reread it, rewritten it in parts and have had other people give me their impressions and I have to say I’m really happy with it. I wish all short stories were this fun and painless.
“Wings” is still out at the Nocturnal Lyric. It’s been out since March and I’m still eagerly running to the mailbox every few days, looking for a self-addressed return envelope in my very obvious pen and handwriting. Every time I get one my heart jumps a little and I run back into the house to tear into it, almost afraid of the verdict.
It’s been a while since I received and acceptance letter or contract the old fashioned way.
I should send my stories out to another round of publishers, though I’m starting to doubt the quality of a few of them. Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much. Of everything I’ve written in the past twelve months, aside from the two novels in progress, I think I’ve enjoyed “Cryptic Coloration” and “Canned Aisle” the most. “Cryptic Coloration” was my first real foray into magical realism, a story of two very different women paired up on a business retreat together and the odd things that surround the hotel they’re in. “Canned Aisle” is one of my “ghost invades the mundane world and goes on its merry way” stories, something that seems to be becoming almost a hallmark of mine. That theme and the theme of the suicide jumper have shown up so many times that I’ve lost count at this point.
I really ought to take all my unpublished short works out in October, dust them off, rework them if necessary and send them to publishers before November comes around.